


we dem boiz

by kapbird, mercutioes, noiselesspatientspider, placentalmammal, SHAYCH___xxvii



Category: Original Work
Genre: Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slime, Trans Character, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 07:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11916531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapbird/pseuds/kapbird, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutioes/pseuds/mercutioes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/noiselesspatientspider/pseuds/noiselesspatientspider, https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHAYCH___xxvii/pseuds/SHAYCH___xxvii
Summary: A hotshot pilot, a dashing explorer, an easily flustered slime boy, a hot alien monk, andyearsof unresolved sexual tension. It's about to go down.





	we dem boiz

**Author's Note:**

> **dramatis personæ**
> 
> Tertiary, aka "too beautiful and smart for this," an intrepid space explorer
> 
> Figment aka "gay Peter Quill," a hot and cocksure pilot
> 
> Ooli, aka "one giant blush," a sweet and easily flustered slime engineer
> 
> Asiya, aka "basically Sidon," a space monk
> 
> Dr. Naruhi, aka "Rue" aka "lizard grandparent," a cranky doctor
> 
> Darcy, aka "mom" aka "lady not appearing in this story," the captain

The officer’s lounge is a repurposed supply closet furnished with a pair of shabby couches and a sturdy coffee table sourced from an interstellar flea market. There’s an espresso machine, a dorm-sized fridge, and a string of twinkle lights for “ambience.” It isn’t much, but it’s _ theirs _ , more than any other place on the Raptor. It belongs to Captrain Darcy and all the senior officers: to Dr. Naruhi, to Ooli and Figment and Tertiary. It’s cramped and comfortable and it’s where they go to celebrate after they leave the abandoned space station behind.

Asiya is among them, sitting on the floor, head tipped back to rest on Ooli’s slick, warm lap. Figment and Tertiary sit on the opposite couch, practically on top of one another. It’s just the four of them, and they’re already quite drunk. Dr. Rue -- thrust against their will into the role of ‘responsible adult chaperone’ -- had given up and gone to bed some time earlier.

“Don’t make a mess,” they’d rasped, and then they stalked off, shutting the door solidly behind them.

Asiya had been very worried, after Rue had gone. “Are they mad?” he said, his voice high and sweet like birdsong. “Do they not like me?”

“Rue’s just like that,” Figment had said, grimacing. “You caught them on a good day, believe it or not--”

It was a lot of effort, reassuring Asiya. Figment and Tertiary somehow found themselves on the floor beside him, Ooli sitting above them all, iridescent and faintly blue-green in the light of the fluorescent tracks. Asiya’s head is still in his lap, and Figment’s got his hand on Ooli’s thigh. Tertiary can tell just looking at him that the slime boy having a hard time holding his shape -- he’s gone soft around the edges, blue slime dripping down the edge of the plastic-covered sofa, pooling on the cushions.

It’s cute, he thinks. He’s always liked Ooli, but here, now, half-drunk and sitting halfway in the lap of a  _ very  _ attractive bird-shark-man, Ooli is utterly irresistible. If  _ somebody _ doesn't kiss him, Tertiary is going to scream.

“Asiya,” he says, leaning into him, “do you think Ooli is cute?”

Ooli flushes bright teal and Figment stifles a laugh. Asiya goes very still underneath them, eyes wide with alarm. And he’s cute, too -- so big, but so easily flustered. Tertiary wants to get his mouth on him and see what sorts of sounds he makes. But just as much, he wants the bird man to kiss Ooli, and watch the slime boy melt.

Asiya’s gold eyes are blown wide, fixed on Ooli. “Yes,” he breathes, fins rippling. “I think he’s very cute.”

Figment grins, tips his head up to fix Ooli with a thousand watt smile. “Hear that?” he says, his voice somehow steady despite everything he’s had to drink. “He thinks you’re  _ cuuuute _ .”

Ooli squeaks, and claps a hand over his mouth as if he could take the sound back. “Well,” he says, “good.” 

“Good?” Tertiary asks, his smile sharp at the edges. 

“I-think-he’s-pretty-cute-too,” Ooli says, in a single rush of air. There’s a little furrow between his eyebrows, his face screwed up in concentration, trying to keep himself together. Figment wants to see what other faces he can make. 

“I think you’re right,” he says, giving Ooli’s thigh a little squeeze. “I also think,” and he leans a little closer, breath ruffling the feathers on Asiya’s cheek, “that you two should kiss.”

“Oh!”  Asiya’s voice has gone breathy, and his tongue darts out to wet his thin lips as he twists around to look up at Ooli.  “Do you… what I mean to say is, ah… would you like…”

And then Ooli leans down and kisses him, one hand on his cheek and Asiya squeaks into his mouth, eyes falling shut and blush blooming across his face.  Their kiss is sweet, gentle at first but quickly heating as they get into it.  Figment and Tertiary exchange a glance, identical expressions that say  _ this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. _

Ooli slides down into Asiya’s lap, leaving a trail of himself where he’s losing cohesion.  They don’t break the kiss, and when Asiya runs a hand over Ooli’s back, his whole body shudders.

When they finally break apart, they’re both winded, sucking air like they’d just run a mile. Asiya’s thin lips are  _ blue  _ and a string of slime connects them at the mouth. Tertiary swallows hard at the sight.  There are bits of Ooli smeared all across Asiya’s mouth and throat and Tertiary has the sudden and irrepressible urge to lick him clean.   _ Fuck _ .

Before he can act, Figment cuts in. “My turn, ” he says, flashing a shit-eating at Tertiary as he pulls Asiya into an absolutely filthy kiss.  It’s wet and loud and obscene and he can see Figment grin into it, hand firm on Asiya’s jaw to steady him.  Figment retreats with one last nip to Asiya’s lower lip, who chases him unconsciously as he pulls back.

“Damn,” pants Figment.  “Pretty good at that for a monk.”  Asiya’s blush deepens and he brings a trembling hand to his lips. Figment turns to Ooli, still sitting rapt on Asiya’s lap. The slime boy is looking less cohesive by the minute, dripping steadily onto the metal floor and  _ god _ , Tertiary wants to  _ wreck  _ him.

“Come here,” purrs Figment, pulling Ooli in by his hips.  “I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long.”

And then he’s kissing Ooli, wet and slow, and Ooli sighs into his mouth.  Figment runs his nails across Ooli’s scalp and then down his back.  He moans high and surprised into the kiss, one formless arm slipping around Figment’s shoulder to clutch at him. Tertiary can’t stop watching the way Ooli’s slime drips down Figment’s chin, viscous and obscene.

Figment looks over at him under his lashes, enjoying the way his eyes widen. He pulls away from Ooli, who hums absently, swaying back towards his mouth. “Feeling left out, Tertiary?” 

“Maybe a little,” Tertiary says. “You going to do something about that?”

Figment snorts, and gives Ooli one last parting kiss before sliding him back onto Asiya’s lap. Ooli sighs a little, tilts his head back onto Asiya’s shoulder to nuzzle absently at his cheek.

Figment climbs over them to straddle Tertiary, letting his weight rest heavy on his thighs, pinning him in place. His eyes glint. “You were saying?” And he dives in to kiss Tertiary, hands firm on his jaw. 

Tertiary gives as good as he gets, surging up underneath him. Figment kisses like he flies, nimble and a little flashy, hands tangling in hair and clothes and around Tertiary’s thighs. They move against each other, and it’s easier than it should be, the two of them who are usually rough edges. Ooli’s left Figment’s pants wet.  Figment bites at his lip, sharp, and Tertiary laughs into his mouth. 

“Oh, you want it like that?” he says, and he dives down to suck a bruise into Figment’s jaw, stubble scraping across the other man’s fluttering pulse point.

“Should’ve known you’d be a fucking-- vampire,” says Figment. He can’t quite catch his breath, and his breathy gasps devolve into low moans. Tertiary grins and redoubles his efforts, kissing a searing trail from his jaw to his prominent collarbones. It’s a steady rhythm, and Tertiary doesn’t pull back until Figment is completely lost in it, bruises and lipstick smeared across his skinny throat.

“Hey Fig,” he breathes, “look at our boys.” 

Figment’s eyes flutter open. He turns his head and gasps. Ooli is staring at them, dripping steadily, moisture running down Asiya’s legs to puddle on the floor. His eyes look a little glazed. The feathers around Asiya’s fingers are slick and wet where he’s been running them up and down Ooli’s thighs. The tips of his claspers are just starting to peek out of his loose pants, visible red even through the pale blue shimmer of Ooli’s body.

Figment lunges to recaptures Tertiary’s lips, but his eyes never leave Ooli, who looks so small and sweet and fuckable, all spread out in the larger alien’s lap. He squirms and writhes as Asiya stokes long, slender fingers across his chest, his thighs, his neck--

The noise of it is obscene. Ooli’s got his hands over Asiya’s on his own thighs, and when Tertiary licks into his mouth, and Figment slips a hand under his crop top, Ooli loses cohesion enough that Asiya’s hands phase into him. 

“Oh,” Asiya says, pulling back. “Oh, sorry, is that-- I didn’t mean--”

“No!” Ooli says. He quivers a little. “It’s fine. I do that sometimes, if I’m-- overwhelmed.”

Asiya leans back from where Ooli’s been plastered across his chest. “I can try to--”

“No, it’s good. Good overwhelmed,” Ooli says, squirming in his lap. “I can try not to, but I can’t make any promises.”

Asiya leans back in, tilts his head up with a feather. “Don’t hold back on my account.” He smiles, and it’s a sweet smile despite the rowful of teeth it displays. 

Figment pulls back from Tertiary’s own sharp smile. “Hey Tertiary,” he says, “I got a plan.”

“Mmm,” says Tertiary, a little dazed. “What kind of plan?”

“It’s a good one,” Figment promises, extracting himself from the other man’s grasp.  “You’ll like it.” He clambers up onto the coffee table, grinning lazily, and pats the space between his legs. “Asiya, come here.”

Dazed, Asiya obeys, sliding Ooli out of his lap and into Tertiary’s. He slips his arms around him automatically, but it’s no easy task -- Ooli is barely holding together, warm and wet and squirming. He fills Tertiary’s lap, snakes tendrils over his neck and shoulders, gasping as Tertiary strokes over his back and buttocks. He’s sensitive  _ everywhere _ , shuddering and softening under Tertiary’s wandering hands.

“Oh,” he says, smearing his slick across Tertiary’s chest. “Oh, that feels  _ nice. _ ”

Tertiary shushes him, lips brushing Ooli’s throat. “Look,” he breathes, gesturing to the coffee table where Asiya is sprawled across Figment’s lap, trembling and moaning as Fig eases his loose trousers down to expose his arousal. It’s not a cock or a vulva, but something else: puffy lips drawn back to reveal a pair of claspers, swollen and flushed. He gasps as Figment runs his fingers across the whole engorged mass, hips canting up as his claspers wind themselves around Figment’s hands.

“Good boy,” murmurs Figment into Asiya’s neck as he bites back a moan.  “Asiya, babe, that’s so hot.”

Ooli whines and squirms, gelatinous body conforming to Tertiary’s. And Tertiary is still half-clothed, but the sensation of Ooli’s wet heat against his erect cock is  _ incredible.  _ He groans, thrusting up against him, fists tightening on Ooli’s thighs. The slime boy gasps, moving urgently against him, dripping down over his thighs, soaking into his skin. Every movement, however slight, sends heat coursing through Tertiary’s veins, and he can feel his own arousal pooling, dripping down his thighs to mingle with Ooli’s fluids.

The slime boy giggles, insubstantial lips forming a grin. “I can taste you,” he whispers, and he closes the distance between them, bringing his soft, slick mouth down on Tertiary’s.

Kissing him is -- strange. He tastes sweet but strongly chemical, like acetone and blue raspberry slushie. Ooli kisses intensely, smearing himself across Tertiary’s lips and jaw. He isn’t --  _ together  _ \-- enough to bite at Tertiary’s throat the way he likes, but maybe this is even better. It all blurs into one mess of sensation -- lips and hands and overwhelmingly the slick, oozing  _ heat  _ of him, slathered across Tertiary’s neck and torso.

Figment clears his throat and Tertiary looks up, startled. Asiya is utterly  _ wrecked, _ but Figment is still composed, grinning that shark-tooth grin that is even parts arousing and infuriating. Tertiary growls, clutching Ooli tight to his chest, hands slicking through him.

“Come here,” Figment says. “Both of you. Our boy’s starting to feel left out.” He trails a finger down Asiya’s chest and the bird-man gasps and shudders. He’s fully aroused now, claspers twisting and searching in the empty air.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Tertiary tells Ooli, giddy, sharp-toothed, and then he’s standing and scooping Ooli up into his arms, moving to deposit him on the coffee table beside Asiya. Now that he’s close Tertiary is--distracted, by the sight of him, and immediately goes to stroke one slimy hand up a clasper from base to tip. Asiya is long, maybe the distance from Tertiary’s elbow to his fingertips if not longer, and he wonders vaguely if he’s even come fully unsheathed yet, sliding the palm of his hand across the ridges close to the tip. 

Asiya  _ chirps,  _ high-pitched and breathless, and Ooli giggles, pressing the suggestion of hands against Asiya’s thigh, his hip, his lower belly, the base of the clasper Tertiary doesn’t already have a hand clasped around. He leaves sticky, dripping tendrils wherever he touches, slime that slowly beads up and slides inexorably downwards to pool at the table beneath them. Tertiary is covered in it neck to thigh, and even where it’s soaked into his clothing it feels  _ warm  _ against his skin. 

Touching Asiya’s claspers like this, close enough to taste, to smell the sharp salt of him, the sensations run together with the heat of Ooli’s slime and he gasps, ducking his head against him, pressing his lips to silky-skin. “I bet I could take you,” he says, in a rush, eyes closed and cock throbbing where Ooli has touch-tasted him. “Both of you, all of you, bet you’d fill me all the way up, Asiya--” And now that he’s said it he aches for it, opens his eyes to turn them towards Asiya, but Ooli is there with dripping hands and big, plaintive eyes, and he gets caught up in them like he always has.

“I want one, too,” says the slime boy, more slime than boy now, excited, stubborn, and if it were Figment it would be a pout but it’s  _ Ooli  _ so he just sounds sincere and Tertiary couldn’t ever tell him no. So he drags him in by a hand at the back of his neck and kisses him, mouth full of slime and both of their gasps. Ooli is the one who catches the tips of Asiya’s claspers and slides their kiss down them, twining, and it’s the sloppiest blowjob Tertiary has ever given  _ and  _ the sloppiest makeout too but he’s losing his mind in it. 

The slide of lips and claspers and slime, the filthy wet noise of it all, has him panting, moaning, rocking his hips against Asiya’s thigh, against the formless paw Ooli cups against him. He slips a hand of his own down Ooli’s soft belly but whatever genitals  _ he  _ started this with have long since dripped formless. Curious, mouth full of two aliens already, Tertiary drags his hand back up Ooli’s stomach and digs his nails in, and it leaves furrows in the surface of him, makes him whimper and sob into Tertiary’s mouth.

There's a sharp clang of flesh striking metal, and when Tertiary glances up he can see it's Asiya, whose fist has slammed into the table.  He's  _ shaking _ , muscles taut and trembling with effort, pale blue blood leaking from his lip as he bites it in an effort to muffle his own sobs. The alien’s fingers unfurl, scrabbling at the metal, looking desperately for something to latch onto, and then they find their way into Tertiary’s hair and he yelp-sighs with a kind of relaxed pleasure, lapping at one of Asiya’s lengths ( _ one _ of them, god, he must be the luckiest boy alive.) Figment reaches up, pulls Asiya’s lip from between his teeth with gentle fingers.

“Hey, sweetheart, I wanna hear you,” Figment says. “You sound so good, so perfect for us.” Asiya moans, high and sweet, and his grip in Tertiary’s hair tightens, his other hand reaching up and behind to grip the back of Figment’s neck where his head is hooked over Asiya’s shoulder.

Asiya’s thin lips are swollen and tempting and Tertiary realizes that he’s the only one who hasn’t kissed him yet, so he replaces his mouth with his hand on Asiya’s clasper and crawls up to kiss him, slow and deep. Figment hums, lips close to their ears.

“Come on, Tertiary,” he says, and Tertiary can  _ hear _ the shitty grin in his voice. “I know you can do better than that.”

He knows he’s being goaded but it  _ works _ , and Tertiary sucks Asiya’s lower lip into his mouth, kissing wet and desperate and filthy. Figment laughs, a satisfied, hungry thing. Tertiary can’t decide if he wants to punch him or kiss him again, but he decides that it’s secondary to the noise Asiya makes when he twists his wrist and bites his lip at the same time.

He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips back down Asiya’s chest until he rejoins Ooli, leaning in to bring their mouths together again. At this point, Ooli’s features are going blurry, his limbs softening and melting together, and his mouth is indistinct but still so  _ warm _ . Ooli moans, soft, snakes out a tendril of himself to encase Tertiary’s cock in wet, gelatinous heat. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, and he moans loud and shameless against Asiya’s clasper.

“Look at them,” whispers Figment to Asiya, stroking fingertips light and teasing over the fins on Asiya’s back. “They love tasting you, making you feel good. You’re being  _ so _ good for us, sugar.”  Asiya keens, no longer trying to quiet himself, and writhes in Figment’s lap. Figment bites back a groan at the friction against his own clit, unable to stop his hips from canting forward against Asiya.

Tertiary can feel Asiya getting close, claspers writhing against his lips and tongue, messy and wet from his own saliva and Ooli’s…everything. He grips at Asiya’s thigh, drags nails down Ooli’s side, hears them both moan. Figment’s whispering something to Asiya that he can’t quite catch but it makes Asiya writhe and keen, and it’s so  _ much _ , heat and stimulation on all sides and Tertiary can’t remember being harder in his damn  _ life. _

Suddenly, Tertiary feels a rush of warm liquid against his mouth, closes his eyes against the sensation as it mingles with Ooli’s wetness that still clings to his chin and throat. Asiya is crying out, loud and high and incoherent, and Figment reaches his fingers down to stroke at Asiya’s puffy vulva as he comes. Tertiary looks over to see Ooli covered in Asiya’s come, some of it on the surface of him and some floating around inside.

Ooli makes a surprised little giggle. He tries to wipe at the streaks covering his face, but mostly just ends up smearing it around. It’s the hottest thing Tertiary’s ever seen, and he whines low in his throat at the loss of him, shoves a hand down to jerk at his cock. He can’t actually tell what’s Ooli and what’s his own juices, but he’s sopping, so wet it’s hard to get friction. 

He looks up, where Figment is running soothing hands down Asiya’s trembling sides. He’s a wreck, lying boneless with his head thrown back onto Figment’s shoulder, displaying the underside of his neck where the feathers are sparser, vulnerable. His legs are splayed, his claspers lying limp on his thigh, covered in slime and spit. 

Tertiary attempts a smirk, but just then Ooli runs a tendril down around his wrist, running up his folds and around the entrance to his cunt and it’s hard to do anything much with his mouth besides moan. He can feel Ooli pressed against his back and running down his arm, a tendril tracing around his folds. It’s all so  _ much _ \-- and then Figment tilts Asiya forward enough to run his hand down Tertiary’s jaw, slipping a thumb into his mouth, and Tertiary bites down and comes with a strangled shout.

“Ow,” Figment says, yanking back. “Jesus, man, warn a guy.” Tertiary flips him the bird with the hand that’s wet to the elbow with Ooli and his own slick. Behind him, he can feel Ooli shaking with laughter. 

There’s not really room on the coffee table for all of them, so when Tertiary rolls over, he ends up half in Asiya’s lap with at least two sets of legs thrown over him. Ooli trills contentedly and drapes himself all over Tertiary’s chest, running his hands absently over whoever he can reach. 

“We’re all too heavy for this shit,” Tertiary grumbles half-heartedly. Asiya makes half a move to roll off of him, but Ooli pushes him back.

“You love it,” Figment says. “Lapful of boys. This is your dream.”

Tertiary glares at him. 

“Don’t lie. We’re in the presence of a holy man,” he continues, and Tertiary can’t help it; he throws his arm over his face and laughs and laughs and laughs. 


End file.
